


i'm begging for you to take my hand

by connorswhisk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, romione gets me like that, so here u go kate. enjoy, what have i got to lose, yeah i wrote hp fic in 2021 so what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorswhisk/pseuds/connorswhisk
Summary: That’s the problem with Ron Weasley - it’s so easy to become angry with him. There’s some quality about him and some quality about Hermione that just makes it so effortlessly simple for them to argue with each other when put together.It’s not like they fight all the time. That would be ridiculous, and you can’t build up five years of carefully cultivated friendship on constant fighting. But sometimes…sometimes, Ron can really push Hermione’s buttons.And yet...and yet she still likes him, and wouldn’t stop being friends with him for anything in the world, and she hopes (she prays) that Ron thinks the same of her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	i'm begging for you to take my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hotchswhore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchswhore/gifts).



> kate, this one's for you
> 
> title taken from willow by taylor swift

Hermione has had two crushes in her life. Just two. 

She’s known others to have way more than that - she shares a dormitory with _Parvati and Lavender,_ for Merlin’s sake, and they’re always gossiping and giggling about one boy or another that they’ve got their eyes on. _Cormac McLaggen, with that perfectly curled hair, and Seamus has got a cute arse, don’t you think Parvati, and ooh, Lav, what about Ron’s brother Bill, didn’t you see him when he came for the Tournament last year? Bill Weasley with his sexy earring. And Justin Finch-Fletchley with his dark eyes. And Cedric Diggory with his -_

With his nothing, not anymore. Parvati and Lavender had cried for days after it happened. Cho hasn’t _stopped_ crying.

_(Harry complains about it, and Hermione rolls her eyes and tells him to shut up and think for once.)_

It could be argued that Hermione has actually had _three_ crushes, but she doesn’t really count Professor Lockhart. Obviously, it never could have happened, he’s so much older than her, and that was really more of an _infatuation,_ anyway. Besides, he’s a fraud, and his memory’s shot, and he wouldn’t even remember Hermione if he saw her.

So really, Hermione has had two crushes. Just two.

_(She remembers, in a time before Hogwarts, in a time before she ever had friends, that the girls her age had had all_ sorts _of crushes, different boys every week. Hermione never liked any of those Muggle boys. They pulled her hair and called her names, and everyone said it meant they liked her, but it didn’t, not really. And the girls were never nice to her, either, all nasty smiles and sharp little pinches on the flesh of Hermione’s arms. Yes, she’s glad she never had any crushes then.)_

The first had been on Viktor Krum, and it had been fairly brief. Dark, expressive eyebrows and long lashes, that’s what she remembers of Viktor. She hasn’t seen him since last year - he’d invited her to stay with him in Bulgaria that summer, but she’d said no. _I’m sorry, but everything is just too important here,_ she’d written, _Things are happening, and You-Know-Who is back, and I just won’t have the time._

Those words had been true, but privately, Hermione knew that her parents would never have let her go even if she’d wanted to. She’d told them about Viktor, but never anything about the seriousness of their relationship, and maybe that was because she’d never felt too seriously about their relationship to begin with.

He still writes to her, and she writes back, but the butterflies she’d felt when they’d danced at the Yule Ball together have dissipated almost entirely.

She still feels butterflies, she’s felt butterflies since third year _at least,_ but not for Viktor, and not for Lockhart, and not for _Cormac,_ or _Bill,_ or _Justin,_ or even Harry, because - 

Well, because - 

“Hermione, do you have a spare quill?”

Her breath catches. His eyes are so _blue._

“Erm, yes, I’ve got one somewhere, hang on.” She rummages through her bag and produces a green-feathered quill, slightly bent around the edges. Viktor had given her this quill as a Hanukkah gift the year before - she’d honestly forgotten that she had it. 

Ron grins. “Thanks.”

He reaches out, and for the briefest moment, his fingers touch Hermione’s, and her heart skitters. 

“Eyes on the board, Granger,” Professor Snape drawls, and Hermione snaps her attention back to the front of the classroom, hardly registering the sounds of Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls snickering over the noise of her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Honestly, it’s _embarrassing._

_(She sort of loves it.)_

  
  


**— — —**

  
  


“Hermione. Hermione. _Hermione!_ ”

“Hmm?” 

“I asked you what I should get Sirius for Christmas,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Your brain’s completely in the clouds.”

“Sorry,” Hermione says quickly, tearing her eyes away from where Ron’s circling the goalposts on his broom. “Sorry, Harry, I’m just - _distracted._ ”

“By Ron?” he asks. 

Hermione’s eyes widen. “Er - “

“Don’t worry about him,” Harry tells her. “He plays better under stress than he does in practice. Mostly,” he adds glumly, as Ron fails spectacularly to defend his center hoop, and Alicia Spinnet’s Quaffle sails right through it.

“Oh,” Hermione says, feeling her heart rate return to normal. “Yes, that’s what I’m distracted by. Quidditch.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” Harry says. “Ron will do better in an actual game, and with Ginny on as Seeker, Gryffindor will pull through fine.” It sounds as if he’s more focused on reassuring himself of this than Hermione.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asks, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, scuffing the toe of his trainer against the wooden seat in front of them. “I just miss it, you know?”

Hermione nods. “Right.”

She doesn’t know, but Quidditch has never been where her interests lie.

“Are you still angry with him?” Harry asks wearily. 

Hermione frowns. “What? _Oh -_ “

She and Ron had gotten into another row this morning - he’d accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on her fresh shirt at breakfast, and, well, _sure,_ Hermione had magically vanished the unsightly orange stain right away, but Ron hadn’t even _apologized,_ he’d just reprimanded her for getting in the way, so she’d gone off on him, and the whole thing had blown up until Harry had all but shouted at them in the Great Hall for them to stop. Ron had stalked off to Quidditch practice without so much as a glance in Hermione’s direction.

That’s the problem with Ron Weasley - it’s so _easy_ to become angry with him. There’s some quality about him and some quality about Hermione that just makes it so effortlessly simple for them to argue with each other when put together.

It’s not like they fight _all the time._ That would be ridiculous, and you can’t build up five years of carefully cultivated friendship on constant fighting. But sometimes… _sometimes,_ Ron can really push Hermione’s buttons. 

And yet...and yet she still likes him, and wouldn’t stop being friends with him for anything in the world, and she hopes (she _prays_ ) that Ron thinks the same of her.

“No,” Hermione says now. “I _suppose_ I’m not angry with him anymore. He can just be so _immature_ sometimes, you know?” 

Harry hums. Hermione gets the sense that he’s not really listening to her.

“Honestly, Harry,” she says. “Why bother asking me about it if you don’t want to know?”

Harry smiles sheepishly. “Couldn’t think of a good subject change. Got anything interesting to talk about?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “How about the essay you haven’t written for Divination yet?”

“Nice try. Oh, hello, Luna.”

Luna Lovegood is walking up the bleachers toward them, hair just as untamed, clothes just as mismatched, and air just as otherworldly as ever, her arms full of different colored flowers.

“Hello, Harry,” she says, sitting herself down next to them. “Hermione.”

“Hi, Luna,” Hermione greets. Luna may be strange, and she may have seriously bothered Hermione at the beginning of the year (and even a little bit now, still), but Hermione has come to respect her as a valued member of the D.A., and a little bit as a friend, too. 

“What’re all the flowers for?” Harry asks.

Luna smiles. “Do you like them? I picked them in the forest. I’m making daisy chains,” she explains, holding up a half-formed circlet of stems and petals. “Would you like one?”

Harry blinks. “Er, sure,” he says. “Maybe just a bracelet? I’m not sure how well a crown would stay on my head.” He gestures to his horribly messy hair. “What with the... _everything._ ”

“Not a problem,” Luna replies. “Hermione? I think the white ones would look really nice in your hair.”

“Thanks,” Hermione says, turning her eyes back to the pitch, where Angelina is about to let out the Snitch. “But I’m all right.”

Luna shrugs. “All right,” she says, and then proceeds to begin a long lecture on Blibbering Humdingers, or Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, or something else completely ridiculous. Hermione mainly tunes her out, watching Ron at the goalposts.

He saves three of the five shots sent his way, which isn’t bad, but isn’t wonderful, either. Ginny catches the Snitch within fifteen minutes of its release, and the team flies back down to the ground and heads for the locker rooms.

“Ginny’s a good Seeker,” Harry remarks, twisting the bracelet of crimson daisies around his wrist.

“Yes, but she prefers to play Chaser,” Hermione says, because she hasn’t been Ginny’s friend all these years for nothing. “She wouldn’t want to steal your position.”

“If I ever get it back,” Harry mutters, and Hermione is about to fire back a word of support when Luna descends upon her and jams a daisy crown onto her head. 

“Wh - _Luna!_ ” Hermione squawks. “I told you I didn’t want one!”

“Yes,” Luna says absent-mindedly. “But I had some left over.”

Hermione huffs. “Well. How does it look?”

“Perfectly pretty,” Luna remarks, adjusting her own orange crown on the top of her head. 

Hermione looks to Harry for more reliable advice. 

“It actually does look nice, Hermione,” he tells her. 

Hermione sighs. She _supposes_ she’ll keep it on. Until Luna leaves, at least.

“Come on,” Harry says, standing up. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

Hermione follows him and Luna out of the stands and onto the pitch, heading for the path that leads back up to the grounds. Luna is about to start in on another absurdly fantastical rant when Ron and Ginny join them from out of the locker room.

“Here,” Luna says, placing a chain of yellow flowers on Ginny’s head. “I made this for you.”

Ginny grins and throws an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Thanks, Luna. Nice crown, Hermione,” she remarks.

Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, thank you,” she mutters. 

Ginny snorts. Hermione scowls at her.

“Yeah,” a voice says. “It looks really good, ‘Mione.”

Hermione turns to Ron, already feeling out of breath. “Oh,” she says. “So you’re speaking to me again, now?”

_(Harry rolls his eyes and keeps walking, striking up a conversation with Ginny and Luna.)_

The tips of Ron’s ears turn pink, and he brings the hand that isn’t holding his Cleansweep up to rub sub-consciously at the back of his neck. “Er,” he says slowly. “Yeah, I s’pose I am.”

Hermione crosses her arms and fixes him with an unimpressed look. She’s aware that Harry, Ginny, and Luna have already gone up ahead, and that she and Ron are lagging behind, but she pays no attention to that fact. “And you don’t have anything you want to say to me?”

The flush spreads from Ron’s ears to his cheekbones. “I’m sorry,” he says, not meeting her eyes. “I was being a prat.”

Hermione smiles. “You were only a prat a little bit,” she says. “I’m only joking, I’m not mad at you anymore. But thank you for apologizing.”

Ron looks relieved. “Oh, good,” he says. “I was being serious before, you know.” He gestures to her head. “The flowers look really beautiful. They go well with your hair.”

“Oh,” Hermione says breathlessly. “Er. Thank you, Ron.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, er, don’t mention it.” He slings his broom over his shoulder. “Lunch?”

Hermione smiles at him. “Lunch,” she agrees.

And they walk back up to the castle side by side.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! i may hate harry potter, but ron and hermione will forever have an Inescapable Hold over me. the blueprint <3
> 
> feel free to drop a follow on my [tumblr](https://connorswhisk.tumblr.com) and my [twitter](https://twitter.com/connorswhisk)! always looking for writing requests/prompts/whatever on my tumblr, so any would be welcomed :)


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